


Unearthed

by Auaurora



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks to before the academy phase, Hurt/Comfort/Vengeance, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Life Choices, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sylvain Jose Gautier is deeply fucked up, The true OT3 of my heart, his BFFs would like to stab the people responsible for that, they'll get to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auaurora/pseuds/Auaurora
Summary: With the tides of war starting to turn, the Blue Lions find the first southern lord to turn on Cornelia on their doorstep.  This, Sylvain decides, is about ten million times more important to encourage than the trivial fact that when Sylvain was his very underage squire, they had a scandalous secret romance that turned out very badly, even by Sylvain's extremely low standards.  Earthworms cannot limbo under Sylvain's standards.Unfortunately, this lord has decided that he wants Sylvain back.  Sylvain copes the way he always does: by making as many terrible life choices as he possibly can. With this many of his friends around, someone's bound to figure it out eventually.
Relationships: Blue Lions, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Garreg Mach Monastery  
** **Imperial Year 1184**  
**Harpstring Moon, Day 8**

****

Lord Artane, Count Gwidion, had aged. 

Well, hadn’t everyone? It wasn’t like Sylvain had been standing still since the last time he saw the man. It had been six years at the least (at the least, like Sylvain didn’t have the precise moment he’d seen him at midwinter festivities in the capital etched in his memories firmly enough that even his later memories of getting so drunk he couldn’t get it up for the girl he tried to hook up with and then throwing up on her when she got mad at him for that didn’t alter that crystal clear moment of sheer panic), and the war hadn’t treated him any more kindly than anyone else. His hair had grayed and he’d lost weight, and his eyes were still that odd shade of grey. Sylvain had really liked his eyes, once. Now, they just made him feel cold. 

But the rest of the former Blue Lions were happy enough to see him. Well, not Felix, but it hadn’t really been long enough since Rodrigue’s death for anything to make him happy. And a high ranking lord of Faerghus bringing men and supplies being happily received by their army had to remind him of Rodrigue’s arrival, too. Sylvain decided he’d stay with Felix as long as he wanted in the training hall tonight. Maybe it would work to keep Sylvain distracted, too. 

Because it wasn't bad enough that Artane was here, in general, but he had been invited to a war meeting. Sylvain was really, really hoping it was a one-off, to see where Artane stood, and that he wouldn’t become a semi-regular presence. Sylvain understood why, of course, given he was the first lord who had started on Cornelia’s side to switch. Rodrigue hadn’t been enough for him, apparently, but once Dimitri had had the sanity to send him a message signed and sealed, that changed. And hadn’t Sylvain been impressed that Rodrigue had not only snuck the royal seal out of the palace, but had never given in to temptation to use it when Dimitri had been thought dead? Sylvain would’ve, in those stiff letters Rodrigue had been sending to all the nobles who turned their backs on Faerghus, but then that was why Rodrigue had been the noble Shield, dying to return the king to sanity, while Sylvain was just going to get stuck guarding the border for life if this war ever ended. And that was why Artane had come, because when he saw the signet, he knew the king had returned. 

Point to Rodrigue, Sylvain supposed, but honestly Sylvain was kind of wishing he had used it just to prevent this right now. Which was pretty selfish of Sylvain, but hey, wasn’t he always? 

Sylvain sternly reminded himself that Artane was bringing troops and supplies, which were going to be critical to the upcoming battle for Fhirdiad. Sylvain had spent five years desperately fighting a losing war in the most frozen part of Faerghus, and having this incontrovertible proof that the tides were really turning should have been a joyous moment. Yeah, people who’d wandered off or been thought dead had been coming back all over the place — the Professor, who’d brought the classmates who’d learned from her who hadn’t been from Faerghus, Dimitri, Dedue — but this was the first time anyone had actually switched sides for them. Because according to him, it was one thing to fail your country, it was apparently another thing entirely to fail your liege lord. 

Not for the first time, Sylvain thought that Faerghan ideals were almost as full of crap as Felix thought they were. Really? Come on, oh high and noble knight of Faerghus, you can’t have not known Dimitri reappeared. That’s not the kind of information you can keep quiet. 

Huh, the Professor was asking him pretty much the same thing but more tactfully, and Sylvain immediately recognized the expression that flickered across his face with an acuity that made him remember what it was like to be fifteen and vulnerable to that anger. Artane did not like having his honor questioned, even nicely. “My oath of knighthood was to serve the king. So long as the king didn’t appear, then Faerghus could not fight, and my oath to serve my own people must take precedence. The rumors I heard were too mixed to allow me to act.” 

Oh bullshit. Artane had never been driven by his desire to serve his people. He did it because it suited him to be on the side he thought was going to win and had convinced himself it wasn’t dishonorable. Now, the king had reappeared, and had won a few battles, and Artane was smart and canny and optimistic enough to be on their side and suddenly his honor mattered to him again. Which, like, points to him for being optimistic about Dimitri, Sylvain supposed, but ugh. 

Sylvain supposed he should really be happier that the first of the bottom feeders who’d flip sides once they won enough was showing. It wasn’t like Sylvain was bothered about honor like some of the others; if he had never been Artane’s squire, he wouldn’t care. But he would have much preferred never having to see the man again. 

Oh well, it wasn’t the first time Sylvain’d had to suck something up for the war effort, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Quit your bitching, you Crest brat, he told himself firmly. 

Still, when Artane was politely dismissed so the Blue Lions could get on with the real war planning, Sylvain felt more relieved than he wanted to. 

“—Sylvain?” That was the distinct sound of Dimitri having asked Sylvain a question, and he had no idea what it was. 

“Uhhh… Sorry, I didn’t catch that question,” Sylvain made sure to sound properly sheepish. 

If it had been the Professor, he would have gotten a Look that was actually pretty effective for making Sylvain shape up. Before the war, Dimitri would have lectured him. A month ago, he’d’ve said something harsh but totally deserved. Now, still busily self-flagellating, he simply repeated himself. “You were Lord Artane’s squire for a few years, were you not? Do you feel he is in earnest?” 

Oh, huh. Sylvain should’ve really been waiting for that question. Ugh, now he had to, like, not sound like too much of a dumbass publicly. At least it was just the old Blue Lions now. “Uh, reasonably? He had to have heard that you were here; the fact that it took you writing him directly means his problem was less with the lack of king and more with the fact that he could still stick his head in the sand and pretend you didn’t exist, and if you’d been losing battles the message would have probably been unable to reach him, what a shame. But he probably did decide honor and his oath as a knight compelled him. I’m pretty sure he’s not a spy for Cornelia or anything, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” 

“Why not?” It was still almost disconcerting, to have Dimitri back again, acting like the prince— acting like the _king_ he was. 

“He’s been feeding my old man information on Cornelia for a while, and the information’s been reliable even when it would’ve been a great time to set us up if it weren’t. They’ve always been friends and my old man pretty much figured that he was siding with Cornelia mostly because he didn’t really have the geographical advantages that made Fraldarius and Gautier actually, you know, capable of holding off a much larger army, and his neighbors were much more firmly on her side.” Thank the goddess that part of the war seemed to be over unless things really suddenly went to shit again. “But even if we haven’t shown we know what the hell we’re doing with our army, ow Ingrid sorry your Highness, we’re still winning, and I’m pretty sure that and your letter were enough. Bet he’ll be really glad when he finds out we’re going to Fhirdiad next, though.” 

“No, that was a fair criticism. I apologize again for having spent so long refusing to listen to reason.” 

“Nah, it’s cool.” Sylvain waved the apology away, like he had Dimitri’s past apologies. He didn’t actually know how he felt about the new and improved Dimitri yet, if he was honest with himself. He couldn’t stop feeling both like he’d failed him and like he was still on edge waiting for Dimitri to snap at him, and so he’d been quietly avoiding him outside meetings like this. It hadn’t been hard. “But yeah, I think it’s probably safe he really does want to flip sides, and that seems like the kind of thing you probably want to encourage. Especially since his family's pretty big, and he did well in the marriage alliance trading biz back before the war started. Pretty much all the southern lords are related to him in some way.” 

All that was completely true, unfortunately. And that meant Sylvain was going to have to keep a tight lid on how he felt about Artane personally, rather than professionally. Because personally the idea of having Artane existing in the same place as him again was making him seriously need a fucking drink. 

“You’re right. It’s a good sign for the future if we’re starting to get people to flip sides,” said the Professor, and Sylvain breathed a sigh of relief at the spotlight getting off him. The meeting moved on to discuss what he’d brought in terms of supplies and men and how that could be used most effectively, and Sylvain was relieved. The last thing he ever wanted to talk about was Artane and think about how dumb Sylvain had been, once upon a time. 

**Gwidion Castle  
** **Imperial Year 1173**  
**Great Tree Moon, Day 13**

Sylvain had been thrilled to finally be a squire. Not because he had any desire to become a knight and become the proper heir to the Gautier family. But the opportunity to be away from Miklan’s omnipresent glower for longer than a week or so here and there? Dear goddess, yes. Reaching the age when he would have been formally acknowledged as heir if Sylvain had never been born had snapped something inside of him, and Sylvain had gone from having to use a vulnerary to hide his newest bruise every week or so to seriously wondering if Miklan was going to kill him this time every week or so. And he’d had to start making strategic decision about vulnerary use based on whether or not he thought this bruise might show. While Sylvain was certainly glad no one seemed to have noticed, there was a little trickle of disappointment in that gladness. 

So, squiring. He wasn’t on track to be a knight at fifteen or anything like Glenn was doing, but Sylvain had begged shamelessly and his example let Sylvain start squiring at thirteen. A little young, but it got him out of the house and away from Miklan, it let Father think his precious heir was advancing nicely, and it left Miklan the opportunity to be alone with his parents and maybe use Sylvain’s absence to impress them. The perfect solution, Sylvain thought. 

Sylvain hadn’t really have a strong opinion of Lord Artane. He knew Father was friendly with him, that he was Count Gwidion, that he didn’t have a Crest but his wife and many of his children did, that his oldest and heir had a Crest, and that he usually gave Sylvain candy and a hair ruffle when he visited and was nice enough to Miklan that it didn’t enrage Miklan the way some visitors ignoring him could. The last gave him some points at least, and at first, Sylvain settled into the routine of being a squire fine. It was kind of like how he’d always imagined being at home without Miklan might be like, which made him feel guilty but very, very relieved. 

The biggest difference was that Lord Artane trained him in person, every day. His parents needed him to be heir, Sylvain knew, but at home he mostly actually interacted with them once a week when they checked to see how his learning was doing. His old nanny had hugged him once when he’d been upset about that and told him that some parents just didn’t really know what to do with children, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love him any less. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like the people being paid to raise him just fine, but it was hard to even briefly pretend that they weren’t being paid to put up with him when Miklan made sure to throw that in his face at every opportunity. Especially once his old nanny had left to be with her real family in her home village somewhere near Lake Teutates. Sylvain had thought about trying to run away to visit her and maybe she wouldn’t bother taking him back and he could live with her, but…Father would definitely pay her enough for it to be worth taking him back. Sylvain knew he was valuable, and knew that was not the same thing as being valued. 

Having someone nice actually consistently pay attention to him, day in, day out, someone that Sylvain knew wasn’t being paid for it, could have said no without losing his job or failing in his duty was something Sylvain quickly found he loved. Obviously, Lord Artane had other duties that weren’t training some brat, but at the end of every day he spent at least an hour with him in the training grounds, teaching him how to be a knight. He was touchy, too, which Sylvain liked. If he wasn’t adjusting how Sylvain was standing, he was touching his hair, his shoulder, his arm, his knee, his thigh. Lady Polaris and Lady Trinia had both touched him like that before they’d fucked him, and Sylvain was starting to wonder if Lord Artane wanted to fuck him too. He wasn’t sure if two guys could do that, but he wasn’t sure they couldn’t, either. Sex hadn’t just been putting his dick in their vagina with them, so two guys could do it, right? 

So one night, when training had gone on late enough that no one else was around, and he could feel Lord Artane’s breath on the back of his neck, Sylvain asked if he wanted to fuck. Lord Artane sputtered, and abruptly there was a foot of distance between him and Sylvain. “What? What makes you think that?” 

“Um. Nothing? It was a joke!” Sylvain said defensively. Shit. 

“Sylvain, I am not a fool. What made you think of that?” Sylvain hesitated, and Lord Artane drew closer. “You can tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise. I just want to know why you asked.” 

Lord Artane had always been nice to him, nicer than any other adult had ever been. So Sylvain decided to be honest. “I mean you’re kind of touchy, and I was just kind of wondering if that was why? And I thought using a pickup line to check might be weird, since you’re a guy.” Lord Artane’s lips thinned at that, and Sylvain remembered that he’d been trying very hard to get Sylvain to stop hitting on women. “And I mean, if you’re not we can just forget this whole conversation ever happened, it’s not a big deal! I just…thought you might be interested?” 

Lord Artane frowned at him, but in a way that made some of the nervous knot in Sylvain’s stomach untangle. “Aren’t you a little young for that?” 

Sylvain winked, hoping a joke would improve things. “I’ve been told I’m mature for my age. Also, very sexy.” 

Lord Artane coughed in a way that made Sylvain think he wasn’t totally unhappy with this conversation. “I suppose you are, at that.” 

Sylvain hadn’t expected that response. “Really?” 

Lord Artane nodded, firmly. “I can certainly see why someone told you that.” 

Sylvain hoped he wasn’t blushing, but suspected he was. “Then does that mean you want to…?” 

Lord Artane did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Lord Artane talk. Artane is significantly more pleased with how it goes than Sylvain.

**Garreg Mach Monastery**  
**Imperial Year 1184**  
**Harpstring Moon, Day 10**

At the glimpse of familiar black hair, Sylvain’s guard dropped, ever so slightly. Artane was in the training grounds, watching. It wasn’t like Felix and he were the only two people in the training grounds, or even the only two currently training, but Sylvain knew that Artane was looking at him, watching him, and that was enough to throw him off for one critical moment. That was all that Felix needed to drive in like the ruthless bastard he was, putting Sylvain on the ground and Felix kneeling on top with his training sword to Sylvain’s throat. 

“Careless,” Felix grunted, frowning at him. Felix hated it when he was careless. “If you did that on the battlefield, you’d be dead.” 

“Whoops,” Sylvain agreed. “What a loss that would be for the ladies of the world.” He winked at Felix, who withdrew his sword with a muttered ugh. Sylvain might have teased more, but that was a mistake he’d already made. And learned that Felix’s reaction to Sylvain joking about dying a week after Felix’s father died was pinning him to the wall and yelling at him with tears in his eyes while Sylvain felt about two inches tall, so no, Sylvain was not going to repeat that particular mistake. See, Sylvain wasn’t…okay, actually Sylvain was a total piece of shit, but he was a piece of shit who was at least trying. 

“If you have enough breath to make dumb comments, you have enough breath to keep training. Up.” The light of good training was in Felix’s eyes, and Sylvain was glad to see it there. He was still quiet and sad and broody, understandably, but his father’s death hadn’t shattered something inside him the way Glenn’s had. Felix was already too intimate with death for it to do that this time, and there was its own tragedy in that. But at least this time, Sylvain was as confident as he could be that Felix would heal from this wound. 

“Felix, you underestimate me,” Sylvain teased, getting up and preparing for Felix’s next onslaught. Felix was making not making death jokes very hard, but fortunately Sylvain was creative. “I am fully capable of making dumb comments out any breath at all.” And hey, you know what else magic training was good for? Really mastering the art of gesturing with your hands full of weapon. So he wriggled his eyebrows and stuck his finger in the hole formed by his other hand’s index finger and thumb to demonstrate. 

Felix rolled his eyes, but it was a decently good humored eye roll. Sylvain would take it. “Of course you can.” 

Their training went on for hours longer, much longer than Artane stayed, and Sylvain too occupied with Felix to even notice when he left, much to his own relief. 

But when Sylvain had coaxed Felix to finish training for the night, he had told Sylvain he wanted to think alone for a bit. Which, fair, Felix always had needed some time to himself, even if Sylvain found that impossible to fathom. So once Felix had wandered in the general direction of the Archbishop’s garden, which had become the standard place of choice for anyone wanting a little time to themselves to think, Sylvain decided that what he really wanted a drink. One thing the war had taught him was that where there are fighting men who aren’t actually starving, there is someone selling them drink. Once Rodrigue had brought supplies, the previously unreliable market had settled into something resembling stability. It wasn’t the expensive vintages Sylvain had snuck into as a child, but it got him drunk and really, wasn’t that the important part? 

His little flask refilled with Garreg Mach’s best brewer’s first experiment in distillation (because Sylvain was definitely not the only person in the war with a habit of carrying around a little flask to be used in times it was really, really called for) and himself pleasantly filled with beer, Sylvain made his way back to the monastery. It was late but not too late, and hi. He’d regret this in the morning, but not too badly, or so he thought until he almost walked right into Artane. 

“Sylvain. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Artane looked nearly as startled to see him as he was to see Artane. Fuck, he shouldn’t have done this. He’d always felt safe in Garreg Mach. Not rationally; given how many problems Edelgard and her army had caused even before it fell to invasion and it was only inhabited by thieves for the next five years. Flayn had been kidnapped. If the professor had been less competent, students would have died long before Edelgard invaded and it had become a thieves haven for the next five years. Edelgard had tried to invade it again, even. Garreg Mach was only as safe as blood and steel could make it, and Sylvain knew that down to his bones. 

But Miklan wasn’t here, Artane hadn’t been here, even Father wasn’t here; Garreg Mach was filled with people Sylvain would trust with his life or die for, if necessary. Even with Sylvain busily pissing off every single attractive girl within five miles of the monastery, he probably wasn’t going to get anything worse than a slap or two, and at least if he did, he’d deserve it. 

But Artane’s presence had made Garreg Mach enemy territory in the way actual enemy territory had never felt to Sylvain, and he went out and got drunk? Sylvain was a fucking moron. 

Whatever, at least in this kind of enemy territory Sylvain was the only one who’d get hurt. And it wasn’t like Artane would kill him, so Ingrid and Felix couldn’t even be too pissed off. So it was fine. 

Sylvain raised his hand in a wave. “Artane, hey, long time no see, wish it were longer, I see you’re not dead, anyway gotta go polish my lance, bye.” 

But he wasn’t actually surprised when Artane moved to block him, and Sylvain was very, very aware that that he’d decided to take the back road in. Ironically enough, in hopes of avoiding running into Artane. “Sylvain, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” 

“That’s great, but unless you’re planning on telling me that you’d like to introduce me to a dozen beautiful women whose greatest sexual fantasy is an orgy with me at the center, the feeling isn’t mutual.” He was pleased to see Artane’s lips tighten at that. 

“Really, Sylvain, I’d hoped you would have grown past that. I’ve been listening to the rumors about you, and I’m worried about you.” Artane moved closer, and Sylvain felt like he was fourteen again. “If only I’d been able to keep training you, I’d hoped you would channel your urges…” 

“Into fucking you? I mean, that’s pretty much what you were doing.” Sylvain smiled, and knew it had too many teeth. “Well, I don’t do monogamy nowadays, but if you don’t mind that, sure, I’ll give you a ride.” He swept his eyes up and down Artane as insultingly as he could. “I mean, your dick is as good as the next, right?” 

“Ah, Sylvain.” The last thing Sylvain really expected in response to that was for Artane to finish stepping into his personal space and kissing him deeply. Sylvain froze. “I’m sorry if that’s what you came to believe, when we were separated. I only ever wanted what’s best for you. Perhaps I was...not always the best at how I handled it—” 

“No, really?” 

“All I ever wanted was you, all to myself. I did it badly, I admit, but I did it because you’re important to me. Because I wanted to keep you from harm, and because I loved you.” Artane’s voice was exactly as sincere as it had always been. 

There was still a tiny, wounded part of Sylvain’s heart that wanted to hear that more than anything in the world, that wanted to sleep with someone who told him they valued him and made him believe it. Artane had, once. 

But now Sylvain laughed in his face. He wasn’t that dumb any more. “Yeah, sure, who wouldn’t want a dumb kid hanging off their dick whenever you so much as hinted you were horny.” Sylvain rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I mean, if you’re that desperate to find someone to stick it in, sure. Why not?” This time it was Sylvain moving closer. “You’re not a bad lay and I’ve never been the type to be picky. You don’t have to feed me bullshit about how much you care about me. I don’t believe you, and I’m never going to, ever again. But I’ll still fuck you, if you want.” This time, it was Sylvain who kissed Artane and Artane that stepped back. 

“If I’d known the girls you wanted so badly would twist you like this, I would have found a way to protect you from them.” He sounded so sincere, so like the man Sylvain had fallen for once upon a time, that Sylvain could almost pretend it was okay. “If no one else in the world can love you, that’s fine.” Sylvain closed his eyes. “Maybe I’m not everything you dreamed of; I’m an older man, a jealous man, a man who has made his share and more of mistakes. But I’ve never stopped caring about you. I’ve listened for news, of how you’ve been doing, and I’ve been so proud of what I’ve heard. You’ve grown to be a good knight and a handsome man who deserves love, and if no one else can see that, if no one else is telling you that you deserve someone who will tell you that, then won’t you please let me be the one? I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to make love with you, because I do. But I want so much more than that. I love you.” 

Hearing that still hurt, more than Sylvain had thought it would. “You don’t.” 

“I do—” 

“You don’t!” Sylvain realized he’d shouted only after the fact. “You don’t—mph.” 

Artane was kissing him, and it was like Sylvain getting upset had encouraged him to just go for it. It probably was. His arms were wrapped around Sylvain, and he was moving forward, backing Sylvain into the wall. 

Sylvain froze again. He knew what he should do. He should shove Artane away and just leave. Fucking Artane was a bad idea and he knew it. He did. 

He just…couldn’t bring himself to stop it. Artane would stop if he said no, he knew that. (And anyway, Sylvain was a Dark Knight and a damn good one if he said so himself, he could handle that himself if it came down to it. And if he was so weak he couldn’t, eh. On the scale of a fight to lose, one where he’d probably survive it and it wouldn’t cause problems for anyone else wasn’t the worst fight to lose.) But Sylvain knew stopping wasn’t the same thing as stopping, and he’d just keep trying to talk Sylvain into it. Every word Artane was saying to get back into Sylvain’s pants was like someone had managed to find that one wound on his side that had never quite healed right and was carefully, slowly digging it back open with a needle. 

So…it was just sex. Sex was fine. Sylvain would fuck Artane and keep his mouth too busy to say anything, and tomorrow he’d go out and hit on as many girls as he could and try to do it where Artane would see. That would piss him off and make the point that Sylvain wasn’t fucking him because he mattered, but because Sylvain, as the world already knew, wouldn’t turn down a chicken that fell into his bed. And then Artane would yell at him and try to hit him and Sylvain would have proved himself to be not worth a fuck to the one person he really, really wanted to prove that too, and it would be fine. 

And maybe this time, Sylvain would punch Artane back. 

Sylvain knew this was a fucked up way to be thinking about someone who was busily discovering exactly how Sylvain’s armor did not extend to his crotch, which was, now that Sylvain thought about it, one hell of a metaphor. But whatever, Sylvain had probably had sex for worse reasons. Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain wakes up with regrets.

**Garreg Mach Monastery  
** **Imperial Year 1184**  
**Harpstring Moon, Day 11**

Sylvain woke up in the morning alone in his room actually wishing he were more hungover. It would, at least, be a distraction from the self-loathing. Sometimes, when he was hanging around with Felix or Ingrid or Mercedes or Ashe or…okay actually a lot of people, Sylvain could almost forget what a useless piece of shit he was, and almost believe that he had something to offer the world besides his Crest. Then he ran into Artane, and remembered: yeah, that other thing he has to offer? It’s his body. 

Which, Sylvain supposes, is not entirely distinguished from having a Crest; often, when he’s fucking a woman, they’re indistinguishable. His Crest tends to make him more attractive to the men he fucks: it means they’re fucking someone important, and most people, Sylvain has learned, are kind of into that. It’s only with Artane that the distinction has ever been clear, because Artane is the only guy Sylvain’s ever fucked that outranked him enough that he knew Artane wasn’t interested in his Crest. When Sylvain had been young and dumb, he’d thought it was because Artane liked Sylvain. 

Stupid past Sylvain. Of course it had just been his body. 

Well, Sylvain supposed that meant he had two whole things to offer the world. Great. Three, if you counted being a good killer, but, uh, that was a shitty thing to offer the world even if the world was shitty enough to always be in need of good killers. 

So Sylvain technically supposed that he’d improved the world last night by letting Artane fuck him. Good for him. It still made him feel like shit in the morning, like the feelings of that stupid kid who stared at Artane with stars in his eyes and didn’t mind anything he did to him because at least someone finally cared about him were fizzling to a boil in his blood, warning of just how much anything could encompass. Sylvain wondered if a better person would mind the anything as much as he did. 

Sylvain closed his eyes and wished he could sleep until all his problems magically went away. Sadly, when he opened them again, as far as he knew Artane had not magically fucked off back home and maybe hopefully ran into the wrong end of a lance. Sylvain knew he had to get up, get dressed, and face a world with a freshly fucked Artane who was guaranteed to want more. 

Well, it wasn’t like Sylvain didn’t know how to piss Artane off. It should be easier than all the girls he’d driven off with his blatant cheating, given how much better he knew Artane than his average girlfriend. Maybe he’d arrange for Artane to walk in on Sylvain fucking someone else; that would go over well. 

Having an admittedly terrible plan brewing finally gave Sylvain the courage to drag himself out of bed and face the world. Getting drunk and fucking his ex didn’t excuse him from getting to meetings on time, Sylvain was sure Ingrid would remind him if she were here, and that got him out of bed, at least, and starting to get dressed. His body felt almost not-his in ways that he usually only got after much shittier sex than last night, but he was fine for battle, much less training. He prodded his neck carefully, feeling for bruises and wishing the monastery still had servants bringing water every morning so he could just look. It wasn’t like anyone would be surprised to see Sylvain show up with visible hickeys, but he just really didn’t want Artane’s mark on him. 

And motherfucker of course he had. Artane had made absolutely sure Sylvain had hickeys the entire time he was his squire, even if Sylvain’s youth meant he left them below the collar so as not to prompt awkward questions. Possessive bastard. Sylvain was going to find a way to fuck a girl in front of his goddamn face and then twist the knife with a smile when Artane screamed at him for it. 

When he was done dressing, Sylvain was relieved to feel that the bruise was mostly covered, and the fur at least obscured the top part of it. Now, if he could make it to breakfast and gulp something down before he made it to today’s war meeting, maybe today wouldn’t entirely suck. 

And of course, this morning he and Dimitri happened to be leaving their rooms at the same time, because of course the world would insist on Sylvain having to face everything he’d been trying to avoid at once. Having a neighbor — having Dimitri as his neighbor back again was still new, rather than him insisting on sleeping somewhere no one could find him (okay, Sylvain would bet decent money that the Professor knew, and also Dedue because not even Dimitri being a crazy asshole would drive Dedue from spending every moment at his side), and Sylvain was ridiculously surprised to see him this morning. Especially with that tentative smile as he saw Sylvain. “Ah, good morning, Sylvain!” 

“Good morning, your Highness,” Sylvain said easily, slapping on a smiling mask as he fell into easy step next to Dimitri as they headed out of the dormitory, acting as normally as though the past five years had never happened and also Sylvain didn’t currently kind of want to flense every bit of skin Artane had touched. Sylvain was good at acting normal. “Doing well this morning?” 

“As well as always, thank you.” Which, Sylvain noted with the experienced ear of a practiced liar, was a very different thing from saying he was well. “I’d meant to ask you the same; you seemed upset when you came in last night.” Sylvain froze, briefly, and Dimitri seemed to notice as he carried on apologetically, “I’m sorry, but the walls are thin and I couldn’t help but overhear…” 

Yeah, Sylvain had given in to the urge to swear at himself when he’d come in last night. At least he hadn’t broken anything; he suspected that if he had Dimitri would have assumed he was under attack and wouldn’t that have been fun to deal with? Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

“Yeah, well, better I get that reminder before I bring someone back to my room with me, I guess. Unless you’re into listening to that?” Sylvain raised an eyebrow suggestively. “I’ve known plenty of girls who were into a little exhibitionism, so I could find a girl who didn’t mind—” 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri’s sputter was downright nostalgic, and Sylvain’s grin actually had a flicker of honesty in it. 

“Nah, it’s cool, don’t worry about it,” Sylvain said, with a smile and a wink. “Got drunk, got into an argument with an angry ex, you know how it is. I’ll be sure to keep it down in the future, though.” And hey, he wasn’t even lying. The fact that Dimitri would automatically categorize an angry ex from Sylvain as a girl whose heart Sylvain had broken and not, you know, Artane wasn’t actually Sylvain’s responsibility to clarify. 

“I don’t, not really. But if you ever want to talk? You are not…normally upset by your girlfriends.” Watching Dimitri hunt for a nice way to say you are normally an asshole to your girlfriends and enjoy their hatred for it was, Sylvain realized unkindly and not for the first time, kind of hilarious. “And if there is something upsetting you, I know I’ve wronged you deeply and you are under no obligation to forgive me. But if there is anything I can do to help you, I’d like it if you could tell me.” 

Goddess, Dimitri the earnest puppy really was back. Sylvain still didn’t quite believe that that the rabid wolf had fully and permanently derabidified and wasn’t sure he ever would, but that didn’t stop his smile from going closer to genuine than he ever would have expected as he looked at Dimitri and saw his old friend walking next to him. 

But of course, there were some things he’d been keeping from his old friend since long before Dimitri had ever done anything he might need forgiveness for (unless you counted all the very nice swords he’d broken over the years, but that was Felix’s grudge), and that made easier than ever to say, “Thanks, your Highness. It’s really nothing important, though. Rather just move on and let it blow over, hmm?” Sylvain winked. “But I’ll try not to wake you in the future.” 

“If you’re certain,” Dimitri said doubtfully. “But please, don’t be concerned over waking me,” Dimitri dismissed. “I sleep lightly, you know that.” 

“You wake up every time I come back late, don’t you?” Sylvain asked thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure, but given how much time Dimitri had spent on edge, it seemed likely. 

Dimitri paused. “Er, well, yes.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for days we want you well rested in the morning.” Sylvain winked. “Any other day, you take your chances.” 

“You do me great kindness,” Dimitri said. 

The sarcasm with which he delivered this line made Sylvain ridiculously relieved. He grinned. “I know— oh!” Sylvain’s eye was caught by a traveling merchant who Sylvain had been idly flirting with, and who he had almost ended up making out with in the middle of the inn. She’d be perfect for this. “If you’ll excuse me, your Highness.” He winked. “Girls await.” 

Sylvain escaped, Dimitri’s concerned frown following him like it was his very own ghost. 

You know, the weird thing about Dimitri being…not the way he had been, Sylvain reflected as he strolled away, was how easy it could be for him to fall back in to their old friendship the second Dimitri made the effort. He’d felt the temptation there, and if there was anything last night had taught him, it was how hard Sylvain found saying no to anyone he’d ever <s>loved</s> cared about. All Dimitri would have to do is push, the way Artane had, and Sylvain—okay, wouldn’t be fucking Dimitri the way he’d fucked Artane, because honestly Sylvain couldn’t quite picture Dimitri wanting sex from anyone except someone he loved and that was…well, not Sylvain’s realm of sexual expertise. But he’d be Dimitri’s friend again, and maybe he’d be fucked up about that inside the way he was fucked up about Artane, but he’d still be acting like Dimitri’s friend, and that was what mattered, right? 

But Dimitri never would push Sylvain, and maybe that was the difference. 

There was probably something there to explore, but Sylvain had reached...Milly, he was, like eighty percent sure her name was Milly. And he needed to be on his game if he was going to get Artane off his ass as quickly as possible. 

Literally and metaphorically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add another scene but once I got halfway through it I went this is going to be way too long and I've been procrastinating on this too long as it is. At least the next chapter will come relatively shortly and be a lot more action-packed?


End file.
